


subtlety

by tgtchm



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, The Perfect Road Trip 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgtchm/pseuds/tgtchm
Summary: Richard takes Jeremy to Belgium in an attempt to get his attention...





	subtlety

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally published on the 7th November 2015 (by me under a different username) and I'm reuploading it now as a process of moving my works from one account to the other. it's been edited for punctuation errors but nothing else.
> 
> set after the end of 'The Perfect Road Trip 2'
> 
> prompt: remember in the perfect road trip special Jeremy didn't let Hammond drive the P1 fast? Could I prompt a fic where Jeremy finally lets Richard drive the car fast around a track (around Spa as that's my favourite track) and Jeremy finds he enjoys the ride

“Clarkson?”

Jeremy looks up from his book to see Richard peering impishly around the door of his hotel room.

“Yes, Hammond?” he replies, pushing his reading glasses up his nose, setting his book down on the bed.

“What’re you—” Richard begins, before frowning slightly, scratching his head. “I’ve got an idea.”

Jeremy sits forward on the bed and raises an eyebrow, undeterred by Richard’s nervousness. “Your ideas are usually dangerous. Do share.”

Richard steps further into the room and closes the door behind him and the mood changes abruptly, changing to something more dark, laden with tension.

The first time they’d filmed one of these, it had been fun, if not a little strange. They were both so used to James’ presence that filming something without him for a week had them sparking off each other differently. The final film had turned out decently, so when Andy had asked them if they’d like to do another, they'd jumped at the chance—the first time had been a lovely holiday, and they’d both hoped to recreate the atmosphere.

It hadn’t happened that way. They’d ended up dancing around each other awkwardly, both suddenly aware of this new found tension between them. Perhaps it was tension because Richard was beginning to notice Jeremy staring at his arse any chance he got—or perhaps it was something else. He genuinely couldn’t tell.

“Andy’s treated us,” Richard starts, jolting Jeremy out of his reverie. “Our flights are booked for next week.”

“You’ve been doing this for as long as I have to know that Andy doesn’t ‘treat’ us, Hammond,” Jeremy replies dryly.

Richard shrugs. “Alright, so it may be more of a scheduling thing. But I propose this: Belgium.” He hold up a set of keys that Jeremy recognises as belonging to the P1.

“Belgium,” Jeremy deadpans. “Are you sure you’re not poorly, Richard?”

“Piss off.” Richard sniffs. “There is a reason for my madness. Spa is there.”

Jeremy nearly chokes on his own laughter, lolling back on the bed in mirth. “Are you coming over all girlist on me, Hammond? Want to get your nails done?”

Richard bristles, and Jeremy smirks. He is so irritatingly easy to wind up. “No, you idiot, Spa the race—”

“I know what you meant.” Jeremy cuts him off, cocking his head and studying Richard, trying to ignore how bloody good he looks in a form-fitting t shirt. “I don’t particularly fancy another road trip with a fussy midget. Especially to Belgium.”

Richard huffs and steps closer, clutching the keys in his fist. “Please, I’m desperate. I want to drive the P1 properly.”

A million questions rise in his mind—why can’t Richard just go by himself? Why is he so desperate to drive it at Spa? Why does the sound of Richard begging drive him mental?—but he swallows them all and smirks, considering.

“Alright. But on one condition,” he concedes, watching Richard’s face draw over with relief. “You have to eat whatever I tell you to.”

***

It’d taken them two days to get to Spa, mainly because Jeremy insisted on taking the slow route, driving past as many landmarks as he could to irritate Richard, which was so easy to do. But they’d finally arrived, bleary-eyed and sick of driving, and had spilled out onto the track.

“They’re plenty of good racetracks in Italy. I still don’t see why you dragged us here,” Jeremy says, leaning on the bonnet of the P1, tilting his head back to drink in the weak sunshine.

Richard suddenly leans next to him and their arms brush, and Jeremy tries to ignore the way it makes his heart skip a beat. Richard jumps away, looking at the ground, before replying. “It’s got history! It’s a good track!”

“When have you ever cared about Formula One, let alone its history?” Jeremy asks, watching Richard rub the back of his neck.

He doesn’t have an answer.

***

There were no cameras, just the both of them squished into the bucket seats of the P1, the atmosphere tense, crackling around them.

“Richard Hammond of Birmingham,” he announces in a theatrical voice. “Are you ready to drive the widowmaker?”

“It’s not that bad,” Richard says, but his voice sounds small.

Jeremy turns to him, shifting in his seat, to look Richard in the eye. “You have experienced the P1 on motorways. On the track, it’s an entirely different animal. It is completely, intoxicatingly mental.”

“Just like me, then,” Richard grins, and Jeremy blinks and shifts back into his seat, mouth suddenly dry.

***

They set off, Richard taking the first lap slowly, still feeling how the car reacts. As he goes, though, Jeremy can see the smile on his face growing bigger and bigger as he grows bolder and bolder, braking later and putting his foot down more often.

“Brake, Hammond,” he warns, seeing the chicane coming closer and closer. “Hammond, brake.”

Richard just grins and keeps driving, glancing over at Jeremy.

“Hammond!” Jeremy roars, grabbing Hammond’s arm, seeing visions of his fiery death in a car he’s dubbed the widowmaker—christ, the papers would have a field day—

Richard brakes at last, the car shuddering and bucking underneath them as they slow, Richard taking the corner a bit slower than he could have, Jeremy reluctantly unwrapping his fingers from around Richard’s bicep.

“Frightened, Clarkson?” he teases, laughing as he puts his foot down.

***

They pull to a halt after a countless number of laps, the both of them grinning widely, chests heaving as they pant, adrenaline surging through their veins.

Jeremy doesn’t feel old and fat anymore, he feels young and virile and so very _alive_ , so as he turns to Richard to ask him if he feels the same and sees Richard staring at him hungrily, he does something stupid and leans across the centre console and kisses him.

Richard shudders and gasps and grabs Jeremy by the collar, pulling him closer, the both of them becoming stupidly bold in the wake of all the laps they’ve done. Jeremy tugs on the short hairs at the base of Richard’s neck and is rewarded by a breathy moan, and it’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

“Hang on—” Richard says, pulling back to slam the handbrake on before reaching for Jeremy again.

“Richard,” Jeremy mumbles, arching his head back as Richard kisses down his neck. “ _Richard_.”

“What?” Richard asks, eyes wide and hair messy, lips parted in a perfect “o”.

Jeremy opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out, and he’s left looking gormless as he gapes, unsure of where to begin. Had this been Richard’s plan all along?

“Can’t believe it took a P1 and a road trip to Belgium for you to get the message.” Richard smirks, somehow reading Jeremy’s mind.

“It’s not exactly subtle,” he splutters, brain still short circuiting.

Richard’s eyebrows raise so far they practically disappear into his hairline. “I’ve been doing subtle for years. You didn’t notice. So I thought I’d take a car that you liked to a track that you love and…”

“Hang on, wait a minute,” Jeremy backtracks. “Years?”

Richard pulls him close again, smiling. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jeremy murmurs, burying his head in the hollow of Richard’s shoulder.


End file.
